


A Dark Time

by ShearaGoldwing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 04:50:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12741321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShearaGoldwing/pseuds/ShearaGoldwing
Summary: There were many things that could have been done with the Deucalion plot line.





	A Dark Time

**Author's Note:**

> This was written 4 years ago in three separate sections.

Deucalion had his pack watch Argent for months before he made his move on Derek. He remembered the hunter well, had lost his sight because of him. He knew that the man had lost much of his family recently and while he appreciated the bloodshed he truly wished that one of the deceased had been that thrice damned father of his. True the man been helpful when it came to finding information about the dynamics of the current pack and how fully Derek had failed at being an Alpha but the man was an annoyance.

 It took the betas, Cora and Boyd, being kept alive with Argents help that finally spurred him into action. He’d truly wanted Derek to kill them, to feel the power that came from it, but, of course, that damned McCall had brought the one person Deucalion wanted kept as far from his plans as possible into the circle. Now Derek had two more betas, McCall was preparing to ally himself with Derek, and Chris Fucking Argent knew he was in town. Well, not him specifically, at least not yet.

He asked Kali to describe what the hunter looked like now. It had been over twenty years since he’d been able to see anything and the last image that had burned into his mind had been the sight of his dear friend firing a shotgun at his face. She said he looked old, tired, but that his eyes were a shade of light blue that was particularly beautiful. He remembered those eyes, he knew what she meant.

He spent the month after the betas escaped stalking Argent. Learning his routine. Finally while the hunter was out in the woods, looking for evidence of the one causing the threefold deaths he attacked. Deucalion had found it idly interesting that even though the young alpha was the one to ask Argent to help he’d given him nothing to work with and no information. He liked that, made it easier to ambush the man.

When he next met with McCall and Derek they treated him with the same contempt as usual but he had to admit the looks of shock and horror when he removed his glasses to reveal his brand new light blue eyes were worth it. An eye for an eye after all.

 

\---

 

Deucalion enjoyed many things in life; good food, aged whisky, the suffering of his enemies, and, most importantly, being able to see once more. He had loved the way that Chris Argent’s eyes had felt separating from their owner. How it had felt as the nerve endings had reformed and settled into his own sockets. The only thing that was better was the sight of his onetime friend helpless on hands and knees crying out in pain as blood streamed from beneath his sunken lids.

Humans were weak, even more so once their sight was taken from them, helpless almost. Deucalion had originally planned on ripping the hunters throat out once he’d taken what he’d wanted but the sight of him trying to crawl away, all his strength and ferocity lost in the wake of his sudden sightlessness. It was a thoroughly arousing sight and he hadn’t been able to resist playing with him.

He’d taken the hunter back to the bank, met with only weak protestations and a few halfhearted threats against him. The old safety deposit box room made the perfect prison for his new toy. Large and filled with small boxes with sharp edges and broken glass. He sat in the open doorway well into the night watching his old friend try desperately to navigate the unfamiliar room with nothing but his atrophied sense of hearing and touch. When Deucalion had first become blind at Christopher’s hand he hadn’t been nearly this helpless; it was amusing.

It was Kali who finally disturbed him from his enjoyment.

“Derek and McCall are here. They want to talk.” She couldn’t stop staring at him, she’d described the hunter’s eyes as beautiful when he’d first asked her to tell him what Chris had become. Now the scent of her arousal was practically drowning him.

“Thank you, Kali. I’ll be there in a moment,” an idea occurred to him, “my cane?” He could see the collapsible white stick tucked neatly into her belt along with his sunglasses. She handed them over immediately and followed close at his heels as he went through the motions of feeling his way out to meet with the troublesome pair. Now that he could give them a proper once over he agreed with Kali more firmly about Derek; he truly did look almost exactly like his mother had at that age.

He ran them off. Once he’d revealed his new eyes to them young McCall had attacked him with a ferocity that Deucalion had not been expecting. But even the strength of an enraged teenage werewolf couldn’t compete with him. He returned to the safety deposit box room and observed that Argent had found a corner and curled up in it, trying desperately to stop the now sluggish bleeding from his eye sockets. His heart beat a blazing salsa as his breath rasped in and out shifting his broken ribs back and forth, back and forth, in a ceaseless grinding that Deucalion could hear from across the room. It was a beautiful thing to see.

The alpha crossed the box and broken glass strewn floor and seized a handful of Chris’ short hair, hauling him up to stand on shaky legs before pressing the hunter violently against the wall, trapping him with the press of his own body.

Turned out that even a few short hours after losing their sight a human’s sense of touch and physical sensation was greatly increased. When Deucalion finally left the deposit room, lust fully slaked, he left the torn and humiliated hunter behind, fingers clutching at the shreds that he once called clothes.

 

\---

 

Blood has a surprising flavor when first tasted. More metallic and sharp than one would expect from beneath skin that normally tasted salty with a touch of earth. Peter first tasted the blood of a human, well, werewolf technically, when he was ten and he accidentally bit his older sister while they were playing. The taste had made him let go more than the indignant shrieking of his sibling. He didn’t like it. It coated the entirety of his tongue and even hours after the fact he felt the need to brush his teeth again and again.

These days he had a hard time getting the flavor to stay.

He dug his blunt, human teeth into the shuddering flesh beneath him and allowed the rush of iron to cover his palate. He enjoyed the opportunity granted him by Deucalion. They’d made a deal, information on Derek in return for some alone time with the alphas new ‘pet’. Peter pulled his teeth from the already torn flesh of his once enemy and licked his lips in sultry indulgence. He did it for himself, to capture every last drop, before leaning forward to drag his tongue over the fresh wound. Tracing the sluggish rivulets down the bruised skin, nipping lightly at his previous markings. Not hard enough to break the rough scabs that had eventually formed, but enough to make the weakening body beneath him flinch.

Peter knew that eventually the alphas would have to die, one by one, hopefully by his own hand so that he could regain his previous power, but for now he was content to do trade with Deucalion. After all, it wasn’t often one could feast on the blood of a hunter and live.


End file.
